


Wistfully

by endgame



Category: Messiah Project - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:17:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4413557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endgame/pseuds/endgame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mamoru meets up with a person he thought to be dead. Their mutual longing makes them end up on a futon together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wistfully

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Abyssia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abyssia/gifts).



> Instead of plain smut, it's more like emotional non-descriptive porn, but still..!! Kiraki is Shade's OC, you can read up on her backstory in the "inspired by" fic, otherwise this probably won't make a whole lot of sense. But she asked for emotional porn and I deliver, okay...

He doesn't even know how often he's come back here now. Maybe it's the second time, maybe it's only the second time this week and actually already the twentieth time - it all starts to feel the same after a while.

After all, there's nothing ever different about it. Here he is, just standing there in front of her apartment again. But whereas a month or two ago he just would have gone in and seen her there and talked to her and maybe had dinner together, there's nothing left there anymore. He can't even go in there anymore. Most of her stuff is already gone from there, it's just an empty apartment now. Even the usual nameplate, simple but practical, that once hung among the others at the front has been torn off, leaving nothing but empty space behind. A void.

It's pretty accurate, considering it's exactly what her absence feels like to Mamoru. A void. It's already been two months or so, but all he can think about is the way Takano and him found her standing near her father's corpse like that, the way they had to take her in, the way he didn't even get to say a proper goodbye before he abandoned her to the people that took her away to execute her.

It's his fault. Logically it wouldn't be, there was nothing he could do about any of it, but he feels like he should have been able to do something. Kiraki was not only his coworker, but she was a friend. She had been an important friend for so long, ever since they were friends. It's like what it'd feel like if it had been Kaito they took in. (It's a little like how it felt after Haruto had died - like something was missing that could never come back or be replaced, like he'd have to deal with it the rest of his life.)

And inbetween the work load at his job getting heavier and heavier and Kaito getting more and more stuck in his own delusion of his brother still being alive, Mamoru has nowhere to air the feeling. He's always so busy that the only moments he can even afford to do nothing but feel guilty and miss her are the moments he manages to drag himself to her apartment after work. He can't skip those moments, it'd feel too much like making her death even worse, so he's even dragged himself here today. Even though the rain is absolutely pouring from the sky and other people rush by to get home as quickly as possible, Mamoru is just standing there, staring at her apartment with heavy eyes. Without any umbrella the rain is even soaking through his jacket and making a soggy mess out of his hair.

Usually it'd at least hide the fact that he's crying, but he can't even do that much today. He just feels heavy. Tired. Wanting to tell sorry to someone who's no longer there to hear it.

After what feels like an eternity, something stirs next to him though. Something tugs on his arm, pulls him closer towards the entrance to the apartments. Thanks to his mood it takes a second longer, but eventually instincts from working with Section 4 do at least kick in and Mamoru glances at the person pulling on him, ready to pull himself free.. except it's not any person he expected to see. It's not anyone who _can_ be there, since the face he's staring at is Kiraki's. Kiraki, who was executed two months ago, who's now tugging on him in her usual physically open sort of way, wearing a simple dark leather jacket and black pants.

It surprises Mamoru so much that he doesn't even say anything, he just numbly lets himself be dragged into the building and through the hallways until they're right in front of the door to Kiraki's old apartment which opens after she puts in the keys.

Maybe he's hallucinating. It's got to be the only explanation, right? Kiraki is dead. Maybe he's just been around Kaito and his delusions for so long that he picked up on it subconsciously, that some part of his mind realised that the only way to function sometimes is just to conjure up some image of the person you miss and can't get back, no matter what. And if it's a hallucination he should probably snap out of it, since he can't afford to get like Kaito, since he should be better and stronger like that so he can be the responsible one, but the pain tugs at his heart so much that he can't even bother to stop any of this.

Instead he just quietly listens when she finally speaks up now it's just the two of them - "Mamoru, listen.. No one can know I'm alive, okay?" - and nods without any real feeling behind it just yet as a reply. His mind is still too busy dealing with all of this, sorting out how to react.

But while he's still stuck in the middle of his stupor, Kiraki is already moving. Her own jacket isn't as wet as Mamoru's own clothing, but she easily discards it along with her shoes all the same now they're inside and dry, leaving her in just a sports sort of top and pants. She pushes down on Mamoru's shoulders until he's sitting down, probably realising that he's not exactly looking the most stable right now.

As she lowers herself too to look him in the eyes, it slowly registers to Mamoru that there's something a little wry or pained in her expression too, even as she tries to smile. "Look at you, you look like a total wreck.. Who's going to look after you if you catch a cold?" Kiraki doesn't wait for an answer though, instead shamelessly moving to pry open the buttons on his Section 4 jacket before she just shoves it off his shoulders. His tie and shirt are next to fall into a wet pile onto the ground, and it's only then that the girl's movements seem to slow down, hands lingering and mouth hanging open a little as if she wants to say something.

It takes a few moments of awkward silence, but then she straightens herself a little as if she's gathering resolve, trying to catch the other's gaze. "Hey.. it's not like.." She starts and stops a few times, like she just can't find the right words for it, and grits her teeth together in frustration.

At least that seems to kick something back into functioning in Mamoru's mind. Illusion or not, suddenly alive after all or not without any reason -- it doesn't matter. He doesn't want to see Kiraki troubled or sad no matter what, so instinctively he tries to smile, even though his chest still feels incredibly tight and it shows in his expression. "Don't worry.. I'm okay." He finally regains some feeling back in his limbs, even if it means that he shivers without a shirt on, moving his hands up to pull some wet bangs out of his eyes.

Apparently it's the most infuriating answer possible to her (of course it is, because he always says he's okay even when he's not since he never wants anyone else around him to worry, he never thinks of himself and ends up neglecting himself that way and--) since she frowns. "Idiot! You're obviously not, so why are you.. why would you.."

With a frustrated groan Kiraki gives up on trying to put her feelings into words, and instead she moves closer to him, her hands moving to the side of Mamoru's head and her face moving towards until their lips touch. It's certainly not nice or gentle or anything either of them (but mostly Kiraki) might have imagined. This is more desperate, because she missed him so damn much and she hasn't been able to do anything but watch him all this time as he felt terrible and overworked himself. Even though she loved him this much all this time, even though she killed just to make sure he was safe, this idiot..

But even though Mamoru doesn't react for a moment or two, like he's frozen in surprise, then suddenly his lips start moving in return against her own as well. It's no soft love confession like they might have had under any normal circumstances, if none of this mess would have happened, but it's the same sort of sentiment. Just more desperate. Just two people who missed each other more than anything, who had already said farewell eternally to each other inside of their hearts, no matter how much they might have meant to each other in the past. It's desperately seeking comfort in each other, in their lips, in their touch--

Kiraki's hands move down to Mamoru's torso, but he doesn't even wince at the cold of her hands, considering just how cold his body has gotten as well from being soaked by the rain. Her lips part slightly, and he instinctively (as if on command, without any words being said) slips his tongue inside of her mouth until it meets her own, sighing into her mouth at the feeling of her hands moving across his muscles.

But he doesn't pull away to say anything. It's like any words might bring reality back a little too quickly, crashing down upon them, destroying the little situation they've managed to create for each other here where they can see each other again, even if it's just for a moment. Where they can actually seek comfort in each other again without instead being met by a void.

Instead Mamoru does what he always does - being unable to just receive something without giving in return. Her hands keep wandering, slipping to his pants, tugging on the buckle of his belt, and he instead slips off her considerably less wet top. He has to open his eyes a little bit to try and see how to unclasp her bra, and the motions for it end up so unsteady and clumsy that they end up falling and rolling over on the old dusty futon left behind in the apartment (it must have been too old to even sell, left behind for the next inhabitants) once he's managed to get it off. A slight pink hue appears on his cheeks when he stares down at her, and for once - considering how spunky he usually knows her to be - even Kiraki seems a little bashful when he leans down to kiss the skin of her neck before moving down to her collarbones.

But maybe the strangest thing is that there's nothing really sexual in itself about the whole thing. Even when - after some wrestling and rolling over thrice or maybe even four times - they finally have gotten their pants off, even when their hands are all over each other, carressing every piece of sensitive skin they can find, it's not about anything like that. The touches are a little too desperate for it, and there's a lingering sadness in the back of their eyes whenever their gazes cross each other. It's about longing, sure, but it's more a longing that's born out of loss, that's born out of a long-slumbering affection that neither of them got to give into until it was already far too late for either of them.

Even after he's entered her, sighs and moans and breaths slipping from both of their lips, they just stare at each other desperately while both of them rock along with the motions. Kiraki's hands are buried so far into his hair, holding onto locks so tightly that Mamoru is almost afraid that she'll rip them clean out by accident if he moves even just a little bit too much. But Kiraki is looking right up at him as she's lying there on her back, and despite the fact that he's above her and that he's not really domineering the situation by any means (they're not focused enough on the act itself to notice any of it, it's more about the feeling behind it), he thinks this is the most vulnerable he's ever seen her. Kiraki is always yelling at things she thinks aren't right, she's always kicking people to protect others. She's always so strong - she had been strong up until the very end, enduring her sadness silently when Mamoru asked her over and over why she did it.

But now the same sadness is in her eyes, and Mamoru knows why. Despite the fact that he has no idea how she could be here or what her situation is, it's like it's hanging heavy in the air above them - things can't stay this way. Even if they're deeply connected now, they'll have to part again somehow. His name almost tumbles over her lips, desperately, the last syllable almost a little broken from the pleasure yet the practically painful longing in it.

"I'm sorry," he whispers as he moves back and forth, leaning down towards her.

Kiraki instinctively shakes her head. "No, I'm.." She's sorry - that she can't explain all of this to him, that she can't stay with him like this, even though she wants it more than anything. She's sorry for stealing the smile from his face through her "execution", even if she never meant to.

She pulls his head down a little further, roughly shoving her lips to his own as they moan straight into each other's mouths.

When they come only moments after each other, the euphoria is soon replaced by a sense of dread, no matter how comfortably Mamoru's weight (no matter how dead, considering how exhausted she feels as well) on top of her is, Kiraki knows she has to go. She wants to stay here with him more than anything, she wants to tell him so many things that it hurts, but she can't. This is already going outside every single rule and boundary there is, even if it was worth risking it. Since it was for him.

"M.. Mamoru, I..."

She starts, but then she suddenly notices that Mamoru's emotional exhaustion from it all caused him to fall right asleep on top of her like that.

And she doesn't have the heart to wake him up.

Drawing in a few deep breaths to regain her energy, she carefully slips out from under him, clumsily tugging on her clothes and sitting there for another moment on the floor until her legs stop feeling like they're made out of jelly enough that she's confident she can get back without too much trouble. (Even if it means leaving now, even if it means abandoning him, even if it means this might be the last chance she'll get to see his - for once - peacefully sleeping face.)

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and out of fear of looking stupid for no one in particular since there's no one here, she roughly wipes them away against her jacket's sleeve.

As Kiraki stands up, she leaves the keys to the apartment next to Mamoru on the futon, dusting off the blanket just enough to move it over him. Kaito will be waiting for him back home, she knows, but it feels too cruel to wake him up when this might be the first moment of genuine rest he's gotten in months. She'll just have to convince Umie to fake some email from Section 4 that Mamoru had to stay for overwork or something to keep Kaito from freaking out.

It doesn't mean that she doesn't linger for another moment there. Staring at him, saying what she couldn't a few minutes ago.

".. Mamoru, I love you."

Of course there's no answer other than his soft breathing, and with a last look back, she exits the apartment.

(Maybe he'll think it was a dream in the morning.

Maybe it'll be easier.)


End file.
